


Happy With You

by orphan_account



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4412639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One thing's for certain, Jaime notices when his feelings begin to curve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After every mission, the Blue Beetle and Impulse will float back to each other.

The two seemed to be inseparable. And while the scarab has (sort’ve) adapted by lessening the suggestions that Jaime should kill him; he might actually be siding with it when Bart continues to follow him as Jaime heads for the exit.

Bart walks backwards with Jaime, “So we’re chilling at your place right? How ‘bout a movie? I loved that one, which one was it we watched last week?” Bart takes a second, “Inception!”

 _Inception_ , the scarab offers, mid sentence between Bart’s answer.

“Why on Earth would you remember _that?_ ” Jaime says to the scarab.

“Uh, I was _there_. How could I forget a movie with an ending like that?” Bart elbows him.

“Except I’m _done._ ” Jaime stops walking and starts stretching his shoulders. He feels it pop. “If I waste any more time procrastinating I’m going to fail any final coming up, ese.” Bart crosses his arms, “Hey, I’m gonna text you the second I’m available again, alright?”

“Crash. See you then!” And he’s off.

+

_Alert yourself, Jaime Reyes, a being threatens our territory._

Jaime jumps slightly at the voice, but really shouldn’t be surprised the scarab wouldn't note he'd be attempting to sleep. He groans, rising from his bed and rubs sweat off his nose. He looks ups, expecting maybe Milagro or his Mom, but,

Bart?

"Christ!" Jaime backs away, back nearly hitting the headboard.

“Sorrry, I justsort’vephasedthroughthewindow and didn’t know you’d be sleeping?”

Jaime stretches as he talks, voice tight, “Y'know, I don’t remember texting you.”

“I just thought you’d be done by now. Like, for today.” Bart shrugs, “I mean, you don’t look like you’re..”

Jaime stares.

“Look, I’m not wrong. So,” Bart begins to look everywhere except at Jaime. His eyes find the alarm clock, “but at _9:47_? Not crash.”

“Like we didn’t just take down, freakin’, twenty-thousand of Poison Ivy’s mind-controlled thugs! One of whom drilled you in the gut pretty good. Don’t act like I didn’t see, ese.”

“How could I forget? You came to my rescue just after.”

 _An unnecessary action._ The scarab begins. _You put us in greater danger than we already were._

“It _was_ necessary!” Jaime says.

“Flattered, _buuut_ also insulted.” Bart drops himself on the other end of the single bed and sits criss cross.

Jaime’s shoulders sink. He steeples his fingers and points them at Bart, “Listen. We both know I’d rather spend time with you. And it’s great you still have energy and all, but..” Jaime sighs, “look. I’m exhausted. I have class tomorrow. In fact, think of it this way. If I don’t ace these finals, then my mom’s _definitely_ gonna kill me.”

Barts’ voice is high, “Don’t think I heard of you struggling in class before..”

“Yeah, well, shit happens. Like scarabs ‘nd supervillains.”

Bart itches the back of his neck, “Y’sure you’re handling yourself?”

“I’m sure I _could_ if a certain someone didn’t think it was okay to phase through my window in the middle of the damn _night_!” he chucks a pillow at him.

Bart throws it back more forcefully, “It’s not even ten!”

Jaime wipes his face that fell victim to the pillow, “That wasn’t even my point!” He raises the pillow to throw it back-

_Recommend unloading plasma cannon for a more effective attack._

“Shii-- NO!” the pillow slips from Jaime’s clutch and to the floor. He leans over to look at it, and decides it’s too much effort to reach down and pick it up.

Bart snickers, “Awh, does that mean you want me to stay, _her-man-o_?”

“You know it was the scarab,” he muses, sitting back up, “Look. Summers’ a week away. Lemme sleep.” He begins pushing Bart away inch by inch with his left foot by extending his leg underneath the covers.

One side of Bart’s lips smile and he turns his head slightly. He keeps leaning forward as he's being pushed to restore the distance, “But it’s so nice being with you.”

“It’s not about to be if you keep this up.” Jaime fully extends his leg with some force. It causes Bart to fall back a bit, and by reflex he reaches behind him, unfortunately there was no surface area to be found and heads straight for the floor with a deep thud.

Now, Jaime would ask if he was okay, (or probably hiss that his mom might’ve heard that) but he didn’t want to risk opening another conversation. So instead, he slumps back into bed, facing the wall.

However, he all but hears Bart getting up and walking to the side of the bed, “Why are you being so mean?”

Jaime thinks for a second. Lifts his head. He purses his lips slightly before flipping on his back.

Although he can hardly see Bart in this light, his composure looks a bit defeated, as well as expectant. It’s kind’ve.. beautiful. He’d be lying to himself if he thought the speedsters’ build wasn’t incredibly impressive for his age.

A part of him begins valuing the silence between them, as though their trust is filtering through.

Jaime hardly hears himself as he says, “Fine. Stay.” he scoots over closer to the wall and pulls back the blankets back, allowing more than half of the bed for Bart. He’s bitter now, because if Bart won’t leave on his own then he’ll be his valued guest, because the warm glow in Jaime’s stomach is saying _I don’t want him to leave either_ , and so he pulls Barts forearms to him, all but avoiding his hands, landing his hands on his wrists.

Bart follows, but as soon as Jaime lets go of one wrist he stops.

“Well? C’mon.” Jaime says.

“I- I just.” Bart proceeds to take off his shoes, clutches his socks, decides against it, grips the bottom of his shirt, and decides against it.

Jaime kisses his teeth, “’m not waiting for you, hermano.” he collapses back into his original position.

After a few, long, excruciating seconds, he feels the bed dip ever so gently beside him. Jaime takes the risk and lifts his head slightly to see themselves back to back. He’s a bit relieved to see all of his clothes on. Bart looks peaceful, at least, from where he could tell.

So Jaime stares at the wall in front of him until he starts finding imaginary patterns. He then finds that his eyelids are too heavy to leave open, his breathing is slowing, and begins losing consciousness. He is immersed only by the heat of Bart next to him, and inside the collective thoughts of the day and the next.

+

When the alarm blares the next day, Bart isn't there.

Out of curiosity (and desperate answers), Jaime touches the other side of the bed expecting to feel the remaining heat left by him. There’s none. He must’ve been long gone before he woke.

He opens his phone notifications and goes straight to Bart’s text:

“ _had to go. see you within the next week? (:_ ,” The text reads 3:44AM.

Jaime decides to reply later. Or not reply at all. He’s not sure yet.

He tosses the phone aside with a shrug and begins his day.

+

“Just a cinnamon roll, please,” he tells the barista.

_An unhealthy choice, Jaime Reyes. Consequences are imminent._

“Can’t I live?”

Jaime collects his receipt with a thank-you and sets up his laptop at a table. He thought he’d avoid home for a bit to better focus on his studies.

It may be outweighing itself with his thoughts constantly being occupied by Bart, however.

Jaime will admit, time is different when he’s with Bart. Ordinarily, they’d be pebbles being tossed at the back of him when he looks. Either a reminder of how slow it can really be, and how it pulls his school day to a crawl. That, or signals of the time he’s wasting, looming the effort he’ll have to push himself if he wants to make the deadline. It’s sometimes so agonizing.

Though with Bart, time is smooth, as if bending into liquid. And he’d get so high from the mutual affection, he’d glance at the time and would count five hours they've spent together, like he’s proud of it.

It was because then- everything else drowned out. Knowing that both of them are right there, saying anything that comes to mind because they knew the other would be listening. Even the scarabs ongoing comments didn’t bother him (they’ve grown quite repetitive, anyway).

But the events of last night keep itching at him, no matter how hard Jaime tried to focus on the list of biology words in front of him. He’s not certain what convinced him to pull Bart into the bed, but thinking about the moment he held Barts’ arms to finding his absence kept him in a deep embarrassment.

Jaime bites down on his lip.

What if he crossed a line? Made Bart uncomfortable? Laid down an awkward staple in their friendship that’s impossible to ignore?

Maybe he should apologize.

He glances at their latest text.

Taps his foot a few times.

“ _i sure hope so. sorry about last night_ ,” he writes, not specifying what he’s apologizing for. He pushes his thumb down on send; leaving it there well after it notifies him the message has been sent.

+

 _“it's all crash (;_ ,” was Bart's text that Jaime let himself read after hours of studying.

His lips curl. Then he laughs, all of it uneven.

+

“Can’t be-lieve you insisted on a _small_ sundae when it’s finally summer.” Bart states.

Jaime swallows his ice cream as he glances over to Bart’s large, rainbow sprinkled sundae, complete with caramel drizzle and a strawberry on top. “‘Might have some regrets.” he admits. They’re only waiting for the check now. The two decided to celebrate for Jaime getting nothing lower than a B.

Well, apart from biology.

But it’s _biology_.

“Beshides,” Bart begins, now thinking to take some time to swallow his food, “check out the snazzy glass they gave me for it.”

Jaime looks. The base expands into ridges that twist and eventually expand to the cups lips, where they mimic flower petals, “Pretty crash.” he says, and leans forward to rest his chin on his forearm. He places his free thumb against the glass and traces the patterns, collecting moisture.

The back of his hand accidentally brushes against Barts palm. Jaime looks up to Bart immediately, expecting eye contact so he could pull his hand away, except he seems too interested in licking his spoon clean to do so.

So Jaime leans his hand in closer, holding onto Bart’s fingers’ as if in some clumsy handshake. He circles the wet pad of his thumb in Bart’s joints, feeling the water seep into the cracks. His eyes are locked with him, but Bart doesn’t look. Jaime, desperate for any kind of response, interlocks their hands.

Bart squeezes.

They’re interrupted by the waiter handing them their check and Jaime pulls his hand away.

+

Jaime is unable to recognize his heartbeat when he’s around Bart. It's warm, like he can actually tell that it's blood that flows in it. It’s as if a match has been lit inside and glows with the tiny fire that it is, still hot and so painful to it’s touch, but still a light that allows him to function in an unfamiliar darkness yet to be explored.

It’s torture.

+

_You have thought about kissing the Impulse one hundred and thirty-four times over the course of this movie, Jaime Reyes._

Jaime begins choking on his spit.

“Oh God! Areyouokay?” exclaims Bart.

“I’m,” cough “fine, thanks.”

“Oh. Crash.”

Jaime lies back down on the couch. He’s on his side, slightly curled and Bart is sitting by his feet. He tries to return his thoughts to the movie playing in front of him.

_One hundred and thirty-five._

“Just- please! I don’t want to know!”

“Uuuh, can I ask?”

Jaime looks at Bart from the corner of his eye. “Just be thankful you don’t have a demon protruding your dark thoughts.” He clears his throat, voice croaky. They’re only halfway into watching Elysium and Bart has accumulated an impressive stack of empty food wrappers by his feet.

“But I’m your best friend,” says Bart. He begins chewing on a strawberry starburst. “’m supposed to know all about your deep, dark, _secretive_ thoughts.” Bart teases, his voice turning sinister at the last words.

Jaime, eager to change the subject, tries to come up with a random commentary on the movie they're watching. Except everything he comes up with sounds forced or cliche.

He looks at Bart.

The screen in front of them begins to brighten, and Jaime can see a sliver of hazel in Bart’s eyes, and the way his lips are beginning to tug as he smirks, or how he can see a hint of freckles under Bart’s collarbone as he leans toward him.

He gives in.

He lifts himself, and watches only his hands on back of Bart's neck and auburn hair. He feels the small hairs that’s growing between neck and shoulder, and he feels how straight Bart’s hair is when it just escapes his scalp. He’s hesitating, as if any action moving forward could somehow injure Bart, somehow injure what they have, somehow-

“-You okay?” Bart’s voice was small, and Jaime looks up at him and feels so overwhelmed by emotions of trust, adoration, loyalty, and love, he’s unable to give a response, “Hey, we don’t, we don’t have to..”

Barts words fades from him when Jaime kisses him and the first thing he tastes are starbursts. It’s clumsy, and their noses are bumped together, but they began gripping eachother, and Bart is making these high-pitched noises as Jaime’s hands gather his hair into fists. Bart briefly breaks the kiss to properly turn his body to him, eagerly increasing the pace as he leans over Jaime, slips between his legs and entangles them together, as if they had nothing else to cling to, as if Jaime was trying to savor each second by kissing him again, and again, all while tuning out to everything the movie plays to them.

It makes his eyes water.

+

“No. But it’s, where I’m from, you.. or The Blue Beetle..”

Jaime clenches his jaw at that. “But our feelings are mutual, we want this.”

“I’m just not ready, alright? I’m still, getting a grasp on who I am, like- how I equate here.”

Jaime’s heart was continually sinking faster, “On the team, with us, with _me._ ”

“You aren’t listening! Just.. what it can do to someone to leave a time like that. Sometimes- the nightmares of being back there- they're shaking, and to wake up so sad, its," he breathes, "those nights, it’s sometimes my version of visiting my home, y’know? Where it’s supposed to be. I hadn’t had one for a long time but ever since we.. they’ve been flooding back. I _can’t_ handle it.”

Jaime never felt so foolish. It’s only been a week, maybe two, and yet he looks at his hands, thinking they'd be together and that’d be _it_. That they’d be happy and that’d be _it_. How could he have been so foolish to never, _ever_ consider Bart? _This_ part of him?

Bart is only scrambling for words, but the message is clear, “It’s not that I don’t feel for you, it’s just-- it’s too early. Maybe if we hadn’t initiated everything so soon I’d be okay but, right now. Right now, I can’t.”

Jaime doesn’t look up.

"I didn’t want to hide this from you.” Bart says, his voice growing smaller, “What if I ended up hurting you?"

Jaime’s breathing wobbles, he knows he can’t change anything at this point, but says it anyway, “Bart. Please. Let me help.”

"Then forgive me."


	2. Chapter 2

Bart constantly tells himself the more he works on his time machine, the sooner he can escape. It’s the thought that conquers him. It’s what kept him functional and thinking of a happy future that’s worth living.

So the pit of worry that rises in him when it’s nowhere to be found, is enough to make his head pound.

It’s as if the machine was never there, there’s no dips or impressions in the ground. He searches, seeking for any indication of where it would’ve gone, covering ground at the fast pace that he could.

“Bart.” he catches Nathaniel's voice. He turns to it and sees him carrying it above his head, like some beast.

“Nathaniel, what are you doing.” he says cautiously.

“I’m not letting you go back, Bart, this machine is ruining you.”

“It’s a small price to pay!”

“And if you do go back, _just_ assuming it _works_ , who is going to believe you? Huh? No one is going to trust some kid, some _child_ foretelling a dystopia. Because that’s the first person they’d send, right? _You_? Bart Allen?”

“It _will_ work, Nathaniel,” his voice becomes tighter, “I'm nothing here, no _purpose_. Yet you have the audacity to threaten my chance, yours, and everyone elses’, for that matter- escape at that?”

Nathaniel lingers, “You could die.”

“Then at least I’ve tried, okay?”

“I won’t. I won’t let you.” he begins running up the hill in front of them, arms supporting the machine above him.

So Bart runs too, but speed isn’t brought to him. His thighs feel like bags of rocks and his calves are melting rubber, but he continues to push his body forward as the hill becomes steeper and steeper. He sinks, unable to bring himself up, so he resorts to inching further with his arms. He starts shouting out cries of desperation, all no more than begs for the machine back. The ground inclines further still, and soon he falls victim to gravity. He throws his right arm in front of him, hoping for any kind of grip but-

He sees his arm pointing into darkness.

He’s awake now.

Bart exhales through his nose as his heartbeat calms. He turns on his side, feeling the floor as he looks for pain pills and bottled water, and hopes it can last him through the morning.

+

Bart enjoys recalling the time he and Jaime were together for those two, short weeks.

He remembers them standing on top of an apartment complex late at night. He says something about wanting to visit the zoo in the area, since he couldn’t see many animals where he was from. So Jaime suggest a few he’s been to, and agrees within the month they’ll go.

A moment later, Jaime pulls him into kiss- their second one. It begins as a firm press of lips, but soon turns feverish, and Barts’ breath quickens when Jaime tugs them together. His heartbeat conquers his ears and he explores every inch of Jaime’s mouth, learning what makes him react, learning just what kind of tug, grip or stroke of his hand can make Jaime make those small noises again, and again.

That’s when he first feels himself hesitating.

+

They haven’t seen each other for five days, but forced to when Aqualad drags them in a for a mission.

It’s to find how the increased amount of illegal weaponry towards the East Coast has come about. It was originally a task handled by police force, but when signs entered that Sportsmaster is behind the cause, the team cut in.

Team Alpha was in charge of confirming Sportsmasters’ involvement, as well as taking him down. Beta was to interrogate those for clues regarding origin. And Omega, more specifically, Jaime, Garfield, and Bart, were to locate where they were keeping the weaponry.

Garfield noticed the tension _immediately_.

+

“It looks like the patrols are coming by in groups of seven.” says Jaime, eyes glued to his scanner, “It’d be too many to take out without drawing attention. We’ll stay here until there’s a big enough gap between two of them to advance further.” He leans against the exit.

“Perrrrrfect.” states Garfield, sarcasm as loud as his comment. Bart shushes him.

They’re in some slim, rectangle shaped storage unit with the door on the short side. It’s hardly five by twelve feet, tops. There’s a row of metal shelves occupied by cardboard boxes along one side of the wall and Garfield sits against it.

Bart explores the boxes.

“Don’t. It’s just empty packaging.” Jaime states.

“And how do you know?”

Jaime points to his back.

Bart sinks to the floor. He crosses his arms along his knees and sinks his jaw into an elbow.

Garfield furrows his brow. He looks at Jaime, who’s leaning on one leg.  The two are on opposite sides of the room and Garfield is equal distance between them.

“So I might not be the best at getting cues, or nothing, buuut,” he points both his fingers at them back and forth, “am I detecting some.. kind’ve..?”

Jaime rolls his eyes.

“Noted. But I’m sure my good friend _Bart_ can clue me in somehow, right Bart?”

Bart ignores him. He makes eye contact with Jaime instead. He’s met with a stern face at first, but Jaime makes this slightest change in expression, one where he raises his eyebrows and his jaw loosens- a look of concern. Bart turns his eyes away. He know he doesn’t care, or at least that’s what he tells himself.

Garfield sighs, “ _Wow_ , yeah. I love a being part of conversations.”

+

Bart is leaning against the wall, right foot tapping at a blurred pace. He watches as Jaime concludes his report to Aqualad. They give each other a firm handshake, congratulating each other on a mission well done.

The very second Jaime walks away and is out of earshot of Aqualad, he dashes over to him.

“Hi.” Bart says.

Jaime takes a few seconds, “Hey.” and begins walking away again.

Bart grasps his shoulder, “Listen. I dunno about _you_ , but I don’t want the entire team knowing we’re not on good terms.”

Jaime turns back to him, “Alright, true.” He glances at the rest of them for a moment, “Something you wanted, then?”

“Uh, I just wanted to,” _see you, be in your presence, have you all over me again_ , “talk,”

“Okay.”

“S _oo_ I only need t’know if you’re mad at me,” the words came out of him in under a second.

Jaime makes a face, as if saying, ‘oh, _really_?’ and clutches Bart’s arms as he drags him away.

Bart, for a brief second, worries what this looks like to rest of the team as they stare at them heading for the exit.

By the time they’re outside, Bart starts whistling as Jaime brings them down to the next building. Jaime glares back, so Bart stops. He immediately resumes when Jaime faces forward again, though.

Jaime turns around, “First of all, I don’t like having disputes in front of the team.”

“ _Ohh_ -”

“-Second, no. I’m not mad at you,” he appears a bit insulted, “It’s not even about us right now. I’m- I’m _worried_ , ese, about you.”

Bart’s raises his eyebrows. His voice is small, and drifts his stare in the corner of his eye as he says, “What would you have to worry about..?”

“Your nightmares!” He throws his hands up, “ _Okay_ \- look. When The Reach was holding me captive, I had a few. They were horrible, but I handled it. But when I think about you, and having them at the level that they’re at? Bart, _please_ , of course I understand.” Jaime lays a hand on Bart’s shoulder. “Look at me,”

Bart does.

“If I’m not what you need right now, that’s fine. But please, _please_ tell me your doing something about it, that you’re getting help.”

Bart thinks of his pain pills in his sock drawer. When he first started using them, they gave a pungent taste. Now, they're so regular to him it hardly registers. It helps him rest, since he’s left too exhausted to ponder too long on the chance of having a nightmare. Although they’re basically rendered useless when one actually _occurs_.

Bart doesn’t realize he’s been stalling until Jaime says his next words:

“Promise me you’ll get help before it’s too late.”

+

Bart thinks of when Jaime first confronted him.

“What’s wrong?” Jaime breaks away from their kiss, holding Bart’s shoulders up. They’re situated on top of Bart’s bed, already tangled together.

“What do you mean?” Bart smiles through his words and attempts to return to Jaimes’ lips, but Jaime pushes him back again.

“You’re just.. you seem like you want to stop.”

The words pierce through him, like a needle. He turns his gaze down, pushing his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Jaime noticed- _of course_ \- he noticed. Their intimacy radiates like sparks in the beginning, but slowly fades as Bart slows it down, only ever ending in long hugs and small presses of lips to the jaw. It’s become impossible to ignore.

“Bart,” Jaime strokes his cheek, “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

And that’s when Bart feels like crying, because the nightmares are numbing him to stone, because he's losing touch with how he parallels with this time, because if there’s one person he can trust in this world it’s Jaime, and yet he wants to leave him.

So Bart hugs him, wanting to have Jaime’s affection if it’s for the last time, hugs him because Jaime is holding on to him like an anchor, and hugs him because he wants to be in denial for a few, mere moments.

+

The next time Jaime confronts him about it, is when they break up.

+

It’s happened before, but not like this.

Bart knows what it’s like to have his bones broke. The pressure is great, coming from all ends of the source, and inside is the deep twinge. It can sometimes be so intense that it whirls his mind, threatening unconsciousness, as it’s so exhausted from the constant signals.

But that’s just one bone.

Not several at once.

He hears Bane provoke him about trying to run now, but can’t hear exactly underneath the harsh ringing in his ears. He looks down, eyes widening as his tunnel vision grows in intensity. His entire attention is given to the blood. A thought seeps into the back of his head, like a worm, that it’s his.

He passes out.

+

 

Bart remembers most of all when he realizes that Jaime was falling in love with him. His heart warms when he recalls what they had, but the fact that it was him who ended it haunts him, like a smeared stain that filters each memory. He’ll try his best to block it out, reimagining the areas it ruins, as he’s desperate to immerse himself in those memories that contained such happiness.

  
In the end, he feels like he can only blame himself.

+

Bart is first visited by Barry.

He has already been briefed about his injuries: bruised ribs, three broken, fractured hip, a broken shin on the right side, in addition to seven stitches on the right forearm.

“I’ve spoken with Aqualad,” Barry says, “He’s not going to send you off on a dangerous mission for a long, long time. We’re both making sure of it. I don’t like to see you like this. I’m sure the rest of the team can agree.”

“Better me than someone else, probably.” Bart has his attempt at a grin.

Barry glares, “Don’t say that.”

Bart shrugs, his grin fading.

“Anyways,” he bounces on his feet, “I’m taking two days off. I’ll be down in the lobby whenever possible. If not, it’ll be Iris. And Bart?”

Bart looks at him. Barry leans his hands on his thighs. “Don’t ever hesitate if you need to see me okay? I’m there for you, as always.” he smiles, “I’ll be down in a _flash_.”

Bart returns the smile, laughing through his nose.

“Alright then. Get some rest. We all miss you.”

+

When the day passes, Bart purposefully takes less morphine than necessary to avoid having a nightmare at the hospital. He fears sleep, and he keeps going back and forth between fighting it, admitting he needs it, or pitying himself. There comes a point when it’s too exhausting for his body, and he begins to fatigue. He slips into the dream.

As the world of 2,056 surrounds him, Bart knows it’s the same nightmare. The machine is gone.

He takes note he’s lucid, but only partially. It’s merely a passing thought that skims his mind.

So he turns around, and sees Nathaniel with the machine above his head.

“The machine will never work.” he states.

“It will. It does.” Bart's posture is weak. He's so exhausted. 

“That’s the thought that’s going to kill you.”

 _But it doesn’t,_  he thinks, it cycles in loops but never fully touches down. He clenches his fists as hard as he can in attempt for control, begging himself not to give in and struggles to let his conscious know that it’s just a dream.

Bart starts to turn away.

“Giving up?”

“No..” He continues, until he’s takes a few steps into walking. He starts second guessing himself, what if it isn’t a dream? How could he let himself give up the machine like that? Doesn’t he know the entire future depends on him finalizing it and saving the future? Saving Jaime?

“I guess that’s the most we could've expect from Bart Allen.” Nathaniel yells at him.

“Not this time.” he objects, willing every being of him to continue walking. Blocks of ice begin rising up his legs and shrieks of numbing pain enclose them. He fights through, shattering it as he steps forward. It's like his ankles are tied to cinder blocks. The fragments crawls back like glass bursting in reverse, but also grows weaker with each step. His lips tug as soon as he's able to walk freely.

Bart picks up Nathaniel screaming at him, telling him discouraging words, that he deserved his injuries or that this will always be a part of him. He hears the machine as it’s being destroyed by Nathaniel, but he doesn’t turn around. A new dream begins to splash around him and he loses lucidity.

+

Bart wakes, being slowly reminded of his location as his eyes adjust to the lighting. He promptly notices the bouquets of flowers next to him. The counter is overflowing with them, and he sees more across from him on the shelf. There's a piece of paper folded in a tent. It reads ‘TEAM’ with a heart in front.

“A group of people came by to give you those this morning.” The nurse begins, flipping a second row of ceiling lights on. She appears to be restocking supplies. “All around your age. Must’ve been from school.” she beams.

“Are-” he coughs, his voice groggy, “Are any of them still here?”

“Yes! A hispanic boy, his name was-”

“-Jaime? Jaime Reyes?”

“That’s him! Would you like to see him?”

“Please.”

“I’ll let him know you’re awake then.”

Bart thanks her as she leaves. He studies the flowers neighboring him. He imagines the team heading down to the shop together and picking out the bouquets for him. They’d be chatting amongst themselves, all while having Bart in the back of their head, hoping he gets better. He imagines them entering the hospital in the big group that they are, and soon after, all carefully setting the flowers around him so he could be welcomed by them when he wakes.

He feels his eyes burn as tears bring, and waits for it to pass. Except it continues, and he feels a tear spill over. It shocks him. He can’t remember the last time he cried. He immediately dabs at it with his blanket.

The door clicks open. It’s Jaime.

“You look sad, hermano!” Jaime grins, pulls up a chair and seats it next to Bart. He’s sitting on the near edge of it.

“’M not sad!”

“You are. I see it.”

“Tch, where?”

“Your eyes are all wet!”

“What? I-” they are, “I _yawned_ , relax.”

Jaime chuckles, “So be it. Tell me things, ese. You recovering well? Hey, we were a bit disappointed that you were still asleep when the team came- but no worries. I can’t imagine you’re awake too much.”

Bart's eyes loom over the flowers, “Please. Tell them I said thank you, and, while I’m at it, thank _you_.”

“Of course,” Jaime says, he picks up a bouquet with a primarily orange and yellow complexion, “this one was mine. I had M’gann help me.”

“Okay. _That’s_ something I’m really upset I didn’t see.”

“Y’know, I think it’d be _more_ shocking if I already knew what flowers looked good with what beforehand!”

“What? _Noo_. Just _very_ cute.”

Jaime peers into him and places the bouquet back. He folds his arms across his knees. “So. Good dreams?”

Bart sinks into his bed a bit, a bit taken by the subject change, “Last night was.. interesting.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Bart hums, “It wasn’t _that_ interesting.”

“ _Trust_ me, ese, you’re always interesting.”

Bart tenses. He decides he might as well take advantage of his current urge to share. He glances at his hands, a slight tremble running through. “It’s always the same dream- mostly.” he starts, “I’m in the future, but my time machine is gone. So I look for it. And I see Nath- I mean- someone carrying it. They scream things at me- things I told myself back then. Afterwards, they start running with the machine, and I try to chase them but I _can’t_ , there's always something preventing me. Be it me, or the environment.” Bart takes a second, “But last night I was lucid, by some amount. I didn’t chase them. I walked away instead, and soon it all shifted until it was.. an ordinary dream.” Bart shrugs, “Can’t even remember it now.”

“Then,” Jaime says, a bit taken, “what.. _exactly_ are the things that they’ll tell you before they run away with the machine?”

“Like,” Barts throat trembles, “like there won’t be any point in me going back in time, because no one will believe me. Or the machine won’t work. Or I’m obsessed with it. Or it’s.. like.. it’ll kill me and it would’ve all been for nothing. That I wouldn’t have been able to see my family or- or save _you,_ or _anyone_.”

There. Bart tells himself to breathe, because now it’s out in the open. He begins to process that he finally told someone a problem he knows that no one else can relate to, and for that reason, he internalizes it, cages each nightmare into small sections until they’re almost unrecognizable. Still there, but never lets himself look, if at all possible.

So when he allowed Jaime to occupy his inmost thoughts, they were shaken. Screaming, kicking until let out and rising to the surface. It eventually felt as if his thoughts were in a mid explosion, shards all around him, forming into mirrors telling him that this is _his_ fault. And he will stare. Stare into silence because the world’s still asking him to be Bart Allen.

“The only reason why I think I was able to slip out of that nightmare is because, when Barry visited me, he supported me y’know.” Bart exhales, and closes his eyes. He tries to ease his composure, but a signal of panic starts to beam in him, and he starts to gather himself, "I-I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to listen to this. Let's just-”

“-No,” Jaime says, “Bart. Believe me. Everything you’ve done, everything you were able to sacrifice, to save the future, save _me_ \- you're a _hero_. It’s not like you ever asked those things to happen to you, but you kept fighting through it. You got hurt- but that comes with being brave as you did. I couldn’t imagine being so selfless.” the smallest smile appears on Jaime’s face, “Your battle never ended when you saved me, Bart. It ends with you getting better, because you don't always have to be this way.”

“I think,” Bart says, throat as dry as cotton, and stifles on his next words, “I think I need your help.”

“Whatever you need, we’ll do it together. You and me. The team. Your family, too. Okay? We’re all here, for whatever you’re going through.”

Bart chuckles, at least, the best he can as his eyes start burning again, and soon his body shivers. He wipes them with the back of his wrist. 

Jaime grins, “Heyy, I _care_ a _lot_   about my favorite speedster on the planet, alright?"

Bart smiles, sniffing. He has long forgotten what it's like to be better, to be able to forget the recurrent torments his past brought him. But he knows, he's now one step to slipping away that bondage. “Come here.”

Jaime raises an eyebrow.

“Come _here_ , I said.” He smirks.

Jaime leans over him.

“Do I have to remind you that I’m crippled or something? I _still_ can’t reach you.”

“Uhhh.” Jaime mutters, ever so gently leaning closer.

Bart gathers Jaime’s hair in his hand and brings them together.

That's when, for the first time, Bart kisses Jaime first.


End file.
